Mary’s Song

Album cover art for "Mary’s Song" by Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath - Non-Music, Poetry (Literature)

Mary’s Song

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Lyrics

The Sunday lamb cracks in its fat. The fat Sacrifices its opacity.... A window, holy gold. The fire makes it precious, The same fire Melting the tallow heretics, Ousting the Jews. Their thick palls float Over the cicatrix of Poland, burnt-out Germany. They do not die. Grey birds obsess my heart, Mouth-ash, ash of eye. They settle. On the high Precipice That emptied one man into space The ovens glowed like heavens, incandescent. It is a heart, This holocaust I walk in, O golden child the world will kill and eat.

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Credits

Writers
  • Sylvia Plath